


Call and Response

by Anonymous



Category: Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Cloaca, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was a love story, maybe.
Relationships: Blitzo/Stolas Goetia
Comments: 17
Kudos: 167
Collections: Anonymous





	Call and Response

**Author's Note:**

> When starting this I was like, "I don't know how these smut authors do it." But then I blacked out as the spirit of erotica possessed my mortal body, so it all worked out in the end. All this to say that this is my first time writing smut proper, so I apologize in advance if this is garbage, but not really because it's my fic and I'm allowed to make it as shitty as I want.
> 
> No beta. We die like sinners. (That's not me being facetious or whatever, pretty sure writing about demons having gay sex is a sin.)

Stolas was impossibly long.

His legs, torso, arms and neck all possessed a quality that was almost alien in nature. Blitz would never consider himself short, especially for an imp, but it was nearly impossible to not feel small when he was beside the prince. It could be overwhelming.

Stolas’ face was buried into the pillow at the headboard, his arms wrapped around it as if it were an object of his affections. Blitz could hear him gasp into the fabric with each thrust. It was a good thing, too. Stolas was very, very loud in bed; when he cried out into the air, it sounded more akin to the song of a choir than a moan.

It wasn’t an unpleasant sound, but for Blitz, who preferred to bite his tongue and keep his voice no louder than a hushed prayer while fucking, it felt a bit like drowning.

Blitz tightened his grip around Stolas’ waist. The prince’s legs trailed down the bed like a pair of fallen tree trunks, closing Blitz into the middle. His tail was swept to the side. It had accidentally smacked Blitz in the face on more than one occasion; it was less of a hazard when Stolas laid on his back, or when Blitz shoved his cheek into the feathers between his shoulder blades.

He looked back up at the pillow and saw that Stolas had turned his head around about halfway, one of his huge red eyes staring like a wounded animal, or maybe an unblinking tail light. Which was definitely less freaky than one-eighty, but the unexpected eye contact was still a little uncomfortable.

“What’re you looking at?” Blitz grunted. It was a lame thing to say.

Stolas’ grin widened. He smiled every time they fucked. “You’re sexy when you get all worked up,” he replied, voice lilting but somewhat out of breath. “A blush looks fetching on you. I’d rather see it.”

“Oh yeah?” Blitz huffed. He scraped the tips of his claws along Stolas’ stomach, just hard enough to break the skin, and was met with a gasp as the prince screwed his eyes shut in delight. The tip of his beak caught against the fabric of his pillow and tore open a small hole. Down stuffing spilling out. Blitz’s breath hitched as he felt Stolas tighten around him, throwing his hips back to meet the imp’s thrusts in equal time.

“Doesn’t seem like you care much about looking now,” he sighed.

There was a hint of laughter in Stolas’ tone. “You force me into such difficult positions, Blitzy.”

Blitz only pushed himself deeper into Stolas, stretching forward to tangle his fingers into the feathers on the back of his head. A handful of softer, tinier feathers were plucked free as Blitz yanked Stolas’ hair back, the owl bending towards him with an ecstatic yelp. He steadied himself against the mattress with his free hand and ran his teeth along the base of one of Stolas’ shoulders. Stolas shuddered underneath him.

Blitz hissed through his teeth, pressure coiling in his own abdomen like a spring waiting for release. “You’re one to talk. You better not walk straight for a week after this.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed.” Stolas’ legs twitched, his tail beginning to flutter. Blitz nosed over Stolas’ shoulder for another few moments as the prince continued to twist underneath and around him. His talons, sheathed in the fabric of the pillow, gripped and pulled at it as if he intended to tear it in half (which did nothing for the increasingly large hole in the side).

He held his teeth against his skin for another second before biting down, and Stolas cried out in turn as if he were a musician, a vocalist performing only for him and the otherwise empty room. Blitz bit down again, closer to the base of his neck this time. Stolas’ body was seized with shockwaves as he came, clenching his opening and pressing himself as close to Blitz as he could.

Blitz finished right after, the heat in his gut dissipating as he came inside Stolas. The prince panted underneath him. Blitz relaxed against the rise and fall of his back as he began to catch his own breath. The sharp tang of blood still stung against his teeth and tongue.

It was different from imp blood. Strong, yeah, but sort of bittersweet. Not so metallic.

He rolled off of him after another couple of minutes. Stolas looked over at him, expression mellow. (There may have been something else there, but Blitz couldn’t identify it, or maybe he just wasn’t feeling up to the task.)

“Cigarette?” he offered. Blitz shook his head.

“Nah.” He wasn’t in the mood for one tonight. Maybe next time.

“More for me, I suppose,” Stolas grinned. Blitz heard the flick of a lighter as he stared at the canopy above the bed. Ethereal blue smoke rose from the corner of his vision.

“The grimoire is in the third drawer of the armoire. That one.” Stolas pointed to the second of two armoires in the corner. “Collect it at your leisure.”

Blitz hummed a sleepy acknowledgement. He never heard Stolas put out the cigarette.

\--

Stolas was impossibly long. When Blitz looked at his sleeping form, he could almost believe the stories about him--that he was some sort of fallen angel. A rebel.

But that was a monumentally stupid thought to have, and stories were just that: stories. Blitz loved a good story, he did (though in his opinion, all others paled in comparison to that one about the Earth horse on the American frontier). Still, they weren’t real. Blitz wasn’t dumb enough to think something like that could really be true.

One of Stolas’ hands rested on his chest while the other laid on the mattress, open to the air. Blitz stared hard at it. It was a dainty thing, lightweight talons ending in perfect points, extending from a smooth palm that was attached to an impossibly thin wrist.

His own hand couldn’t be more different. It was a thick and unwieldy extension of his forearm, good for holding an assault rifle steady, but far from delicate.

They weren’t the kind of hands that fit together, he decided.

(It couldn’t have been later than four in the morning when he left. The night air was cold.)

**Author's Note:**

> I am like, endlessly fascinated by Stolitz, for a variety of reasons. But on a more meta level, I think what really gets to me is that it takes these inhuman monsters, who, as a concept, were feared and hated by the vast majority of Western society for hundreds upon hundreds of years. Believed to aid witches and Satan and all that shit. It takes them and makes them fuck, but that's Fuck with a capital F, and the F stands for Feelings. These demons aren't purely lustful beings. Their sex lives and romantic prospects have meaning. They're relatable. They're worth writing about, worth discussing and becoming invested in. It's not just a gay love story; the sentiment there is irrevocably a Queer one.
> 
> So I love it. Deeply.


End file.
